


the city ain't beat me yet

by ceserabeau



Series: Sterek AU One shots [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Dogs, M/M, One Shot, The Drop - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 06:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4090366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceserabeau/pseuds/ceserabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek shrugs. “Not much going on,” he tells Stiles, even though there’s a severed arm floating in the Bay that says otherwise. </p><p>The Drop AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	the city ain't beat me yet

**Author's Note:**

> The Drop AU. Title from _Augustine_ by We Are Augustines.

“Seems like he’s doing okay,” Stiles says.

Between them on the bench, Rocco snuffles and yips, scratching at the wood. Stiles runs his hand along the line of the dog’s back, fingers pale against his dark fur. When Rocco presses his damp nose against Stiles’ wrist, he laughs, glancing up at Derek through long lashes.

Derek finds himself nodding along. “Yeah,” he says, and scratches behind Rocco’s ears. “He likes to chew my shoes.”

Stiles laughs again. “I knew when I saw him he was gonna be a troublemaker,” he says.

Derek’s lips twitch in a smile. Stiles isn’t wary today, too focused on Rocco tugging at his sleeve with tiny teeth. He seems more settled than when Derek first met him, and it suits him, the relaxed slouch of his shoulders against the bench.

“You doing okay?” Derek asks quietly.

Stiles shrugs. “I guess. Same old, you know. Just getting on with work and stuff.”

He fiddles with the collar of his shirt, dragging it down far enough to reveal the scars on his neck, the strange lines of puckered tissue. Derek thinks they’re from a knife, a switchblade like the one he used to carry in his pocket. He hasn’t asked though – won’t ask. It’s none of his business, the same way Stiles staring at the ground when they walk past crack houses or scratching at the crook of his arm without thinking is none of his business.

He jerks his gaze away when Stiles asks, “What about you? You okay?”

Derek hums in agreement. “Not much going on,” he tells him, even though there’s a severed arm floating in the Bay that says otherwise.

On Rocco’s back their fingers brush. Stiles twitches like he’s going to pull them, but in the end he leaves them there, a warm heat against Derek’s.

“You going to work today?” he asks, casual except for where his gaze flickers between Derek’s face and where their hands are pressed together.

Derek nods. “Peter doesn’t like me having the day off.”

Stiles pulls a face. “He doesn’t seem like a good boss.”

It startles a laugh from Derek. He doubts Peter even knows what a good boss looks like. “Peter thinks he’s a tough guy,” he explains.

In the afternoon sun, Stiles squints at him. “You a tough guy?”

Derek shrugs. “We had a crew once, back in the day. Made a little money but it was never, you know.” He jerks when Rocco twists to lick his finger. “Then a mean crew rolled into town – a meaner crew than us – and we flinched. That's it. End of us.”

Stiles’ fingers retreat, falling to his lap. Rocco noses at them. “But you’re still in the game,” he says, more statement than question.

“Who?” Derek blinks at him. “Me?”

Stiles frowns, like he’s confused, like he was certain that he was right. “Yeah.”

Derek thinks about it. His job is simple: he takes an envelope and puts it in the safe; he takes it out and gives to the Chechens. Sometimes trash bags full of money and body parts land on his doorstep, but that’s not really to do with him.

“No,” he says, and shakes his head. “No, I just tend the bar.”

**Author's Note:**

> Derek is Bob, Stiles is Nadia, and Peter is (obviously) Uncle Marv. Go watch The Drop, Tom Hardy is the best.


End file.
